Emily French - Illusion

It seemed an eternity passed before he moved. Slowly, gently, he put his hands on her shoulders, and drew her toward him. The warm masculine smell of wool and leather, and something indefinable, flooded her senses. Sophy’s hands came up and clutched the white pleated folds of his shirt. She saw the brown skin of his throat, and felt the vibrations of his heartbeat through her fingertips.

Instinctively, Sophy stood still within Seth’s arms. The caressing hands slid across her back, warm through the frail barrier of cotton, his touch as delicate as a butterfly’s, as light as down.

Her fears and hesitation fled, and she snuggled closer. His arms tightened. Slowly she let her hands, still shy in their response, slide up to his shoulders. Touching him meant merging reality with dreams.

Seth withdrew from her slightly to stare into her eyes, his own fiercely blue. She quivered in his arms like a fragile, windswept flower. His palms tested the contours of her waist before his hands came back to her shoulders, moving lightly back and forth, over her collarbone, circling lower and lower with each stroke.

The buttons of her negligee gave way beneath his fingers, and he brushed the fine material aside. Sophy’s thoughts became scattered and unfocused. The tips of his fingers trailed across the tops of her breasts, curved down, round, to softly cup the underside of the soft mounds.

It was shocking, and somehow shameful, but very low down, below the pit of her stomach, her organs began to twist and coil, to converge throbbingly in a tightly laced ball. A deep shuddering sigh convulsed her body, which was soft and yielding in a way it had never been before.

Seth whispered something incoherent, and then his mouth came down hard on hers. Sophy clung to him, her mind reeling, her insides quivering. She arched against him, her mouth finding his with answering passion.

She murmured in protest when his lips left hers, but Seth only slipped lower, kissing the hollow of her throat. He made a groaning sound, and his thumbs stroked the rounded flesh.

Sophy pushed in denial of the hand at her breast, but then came a tremulous joy, so strong it was almost painful. A rising, thickening pleasure that drew her muscles taut. The universe shrank to the size of a hand and only his fingers were real. They probed the hardened peak before he drew it into his mouth.

The warm wetness of his mouth, the roughness of his tongue, made Sophy squeeze her eyes shut. She gasped as a bolt of fire pierced her loins, rippled down her thighs, up her belly, leaving her quivering, muscles trembling in a deep, hurting need.

She was going to die! She whimpered and dissolved into his body, raking her fingers through his hair, wanting, needing something only he could give.

The solid strength of his body touching hers made Sophy feel weak. Full-length against him, she was aware of his labored breathing, of every muscle in his long legs, the fiercely masculine outline of his body. His responses became slow and hesitant, as if he feared hurting her, though he made no attempt to camouflage his desire, as he pressed her to him.

Seth was straining her to him so intensely, pressing her curves into the hard planes of his body with kneading, wanting hands, that it came as a shock to Sophy when he suddenly thrust her back from him and held her inches away in a hurting grip that told her how hard it was for him to break contact with her. She glanced up at him in bewilderment, and saw the faint uncertainty in his features before his face hardened into its familiar unemotional mask.

Feeling much like a man caught in a tidal wave, Seth made a desperate attempt to battle against an irresistible force. He had promised to give her time! His body surged with desire. He felt ready to erupt!

There was chaos in him. He couldn’t give in to lust. How could he not? He couldn’t. It was destruction. He was a man of honor. He must resist, give her the time she had asked for. His voice was low and rough.

“Go to bed, Sophy. I’ll tidy up here.”

“Will you be joining me?” Her voice was an airless whisper. Her breath had been taken by an explosion of ecstasy and confusion.

“No. I am travel-weary and tired, Sophy. Let’s leave it at that.”

Silence filled the kitchen. Sophy waited for a heartbeat. For an instant, she felt as though everything inside were collapsing. Her knees were shaking and she felt weak and cold all over, as if the blood were draining from her body. Seizing her composure with a stubborn will, she stiffened her spine. Pride alone kept her chin up.

At last she spoke in a voice that seemed to echo the thundering of Seth’s pounding pulse. “As you wish.”

He watched her go, quietly shutting the door behind her. He had an overwhelming desire to call her back. Still, he kept himself in check. For a long time, he stood there, looking at the closed door, listening for the sound of her footsteps. A very long time. But he couldn’t hear them, for the beating of his heart.

“For heaven’s sake, lass. Whatever’s the matter with ye?”

A face-crinkling frown replaced the morning smile of greeting that had spread over Tessa Fraser’s face as she drew the bedroom curtains.

Sophy shrugged. “Seth came home last night.” The words were flat, without expression, like black stones dropped into a stagnant pool.

“Oh, my precious lamb! Do ye want to tell me about it?” Tessa’s voice was all concern.

“I should never have married him, Tessa. Never.”

Sophy pulled up short. She could have bitten off her tongue for letting that out. Where on earth was her mind wandering? Conscious of her own dissatisfaction, she had been so occupied with her chaotic reflections that she had not given a thought to her words.

“There, there, now.” Tessa shook her head in her inability to refute the vehement declaration. “What’s done is done.” She gently wrapped her arm around Sophy’s shoulders.

Sophy whirled. Thrust off Tessa’s comforting hand. Shook her head in denial. This attraction she felt for Seth made her feel out of control, and it wasn’t a feeling she was at all comfortable with.

“No, it’s not done. Seth Weston has a lot to learn about marriage. He made a bargain. Signed a contract. I am not a weak and pliable creature to be pushed to one side.”

There followed a long moment of silence in which Tessa watched Sophy jump off the bed and insert her feet into the mules beside the bed.

“Merciful heavens! Has he been unfaithful, then? When ye’ve only been married a few weeks!” Tessa’s words were faint, filled with disbelief, matching the surprise in her face.

Sophy flushed to the roots of her hair as a most unladylike certainty goaded her sharp reply, “Of course not! His mother was ill, but that does not mean I am to be left behind like some ornament on a shelf.”

Tessa’s robust face paled considerably, and her lips twitched briefly in a bleak smile. “Aye. ‘Tis right sorry I am, my wee bairn, to find ye so provoked. ’Tis thinking I am that wanting and marrying are two different things to a man.”

Sophy shrugged testily. She managed to curb her tongue and did not answer. There was no need, no reason to make that assumption seem trivial. After all, Seth had what he wanted from the marriage...her money.

What she had never anticipated was that her own emotions would betray her, challenge long-held convictions. But one thing was certain. She had not married to be subjected to the sweet kind of indulgence usually reserved for children or to be treated like some kind of parcel!

Tessa dared no further comments, for she sensed by the brusqueness of Sophy’s reactions that she wished to speak no more of the matter. Instead, she deliberately engaged in an inconsequential one-sided conversation about some phantom creatures invading the kitchen in the night.